


Monsters in our Minds

by MorningGlory21



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: but it's for a safe case, most is mentioned anyways, violence isn't bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningGlory21/pseuds/MorningGlory21
Summary: She wishes the dreams would leave her alone. Stop hunting and haunting her. They never heed her cries or prayers, always stealing away her voice and resolve.So she's left with a bottle of booze and a headache.





	Monsters in our Minds

_She’s gasping for air._

_Running through trees and underbrush, Evelyn crashes and stumbles around like a confused bull. Her uniform, once so stiff and pristine blue, now is torn and dirtied. If she could spare more time to mourn over her uniform, she would’ve. But presently, she’s running from something._

_She can’t remember what exactly, but it’s something that’s making her run. And the sounds of hooves fall behind her, almost like it knew she had forgotten. Evelyn wanted to stop and throw up, with how scared she felt, yet she forced her legs to keep going._

_Her eyes catch glimpses of the scenery around her as she nears the edge of the tree line. A river nearby, rolling fields and spurts of tree groves. Evelyn almost wheezes in shock. Lawrence! She’s near Lawrence…. She stops, suddenly, so overcome with terror and shock. As she looks closer and closer at the scenery, it’s on fire and she can hear distant sounds of screams and gunshots._

_And then she’s bowled over, with the force of a great tornado. Right...she’d been running from something._

_Evelyn falls to her hands and knees. But not for too long, when she tries to stand, a fury in her gut and eyes. But again, she’s knocked over by whatever’s been chasing her like a coyote, a beast._

_This time, she’s on her back, the wind knocked out of her lungs. She’s gasping for air.  She trains her eyes on what was chasing her and her breath is gone again. Evelyn feels like she’s choking on her own heart, it’s beating so fast._

_Quantrill._

_Evelyn had seen him before, in smaller raids and at Lawrence. He was a beast from Hell, Satan's right hand man, and her mind had locked onto him to torment her with ever since his reigns of terror. He was the shadow in her brightly lit room, the black cloud hanging over her head when she was playing with Clark. The voice that taunted and tormented her. He was dead...but her mind insisted he was still on the hunt for her soul. A demented angel stalking over her, gnawing at her heart and mind._

_He talked, but it all sounded like it was underwater for Evelyn, the state staring at him in confusion. When she tried to stand again, he pulled out a gun and his mouth splits open like the canyons she’d seen out West. Deep, unending… The pit of Hell was staring her back, and she almost uttered out a prayer to ward him away, but her voice failed her._  
  
_Why couldn't she speak? Had he stolen her voice away from her?_

_The edges of her vision seemed to fade in and out, like ink put into a basin of water. The colors were playful, dashing in and out on the sides. Her breath was going and going and going, each breath shorter and shallower._

_Finally, when he spoke for one last time, it wasn’t muddled or muted; it was as loud and terrifying as thunder._

**“Your time is up, Kansas.”**  
  
_She wants to laugh and laugh; instead she cries and cries and cries._

* * *

 

And it’s all over with a loud bang.

Evelyn wakes up with a muffled scream and she jerks her head all around. It’s her room. From the view outside, it’s nearly dawn too. She lets go of her blankets, so tightly clutched to chest. Her hands are clammy and a headache is settling in. Great, great, great.

She’s riding out West later that day to visit Clark, Roberto and Martha. Beverly is in that scenario, but they barely pay each other any attention anyways. For the best, Evelyn grumbles to herself. If she had to deal with Beverly every time, she was pretty sure her good girl behavior would go down the river.

Hands clutching in the light darkness for a bottle on her nightstand, Evelyn gulps down the wine. Lord forgive her, but she needed it. Any kind of booze would help. She lays there like that, pressed against her pillows and drinking to chase away the memories of the dream. Mercifully, much of it is already slipping away, the edges of the dream fragmenting away. She sipped at the wine; it was made in her own lands, by her own grapes and people. Comforting.

At least this dream hadn’t been the one where they burned her alive alongside the men of Lawrence. Her skinned had seemingly itched for _weeks_ afterwards. Another sip. Or the one where'd she been drowned so mercilessly her head burned with the memory. A longer drain from the bottle this time. 

Almost out, damn.

It was time to get up, as the sunlight pouring from her window pointedly reminded her. She’d already packed (alongside gifts for Martha, Clark and Roberto...Perhaps she’d pick Beverly one up, too. She could already see Roberto’s disapproving face if she didn’t.) all of her essentials, and Prairie was eager for another long ride. She loved them, and Evelyn had to echo that sentiment. At least under the stars of others, her nightmares weren’t as frequent. Another sip and then she placed the bottle back on the nightstand.  
  
She couldn't let her nightmares haunt her anymore, but when they felt so real? It was hard. Harder still when she didn't have anyone to lean on, to cry to, readily. Her persona to her neighbors was one of an incorrigible loner, who didn't need help. It was a damn lie she was telling herself and others, but it was better than being a crying mess.   
  
Evelyn wasn't a damn mess.  She finishes off the bottle with a satisfying 'pop!' and puts back on the table.  
  
She needs to get up. 

 


End file.
